Y
Ythania
Guest
The thick miasma that hung around Charlie's mood was split open by Aros' raucous laughter. Her gaze snapped up to the elf, watching carefully for the rippling coughs which would certainly burst his lungs open, but nothing happened. She looked at Aros, perplexed; how could this elf be so light-hearted about the whole ordeal? He almost sounded like he did before they set off, the same big grin on his face that caught Charlie's eye on a bench in the middle of the Eastway market...in the eyes of one so used to sadness, this sudden joy confused and worried Charlie. She put it down to mania from the pain of his broken rib.
She could tell his train of thought was shifting and derailing by the faraway, distracted look in his eye and Charlie prayed it wasn't too late as she rambled on. Her hands started to shake; is this it? Does Aros return to his usual cheery self out of delirium moments before his demise, did she make a mistake in her calculations? Would he ever make it back al-...
Charlie peered at the finger and quirked an eyebrow. The other brow followed shortly after in surprise as she glanced up and into Aros' eyes. "Just 'cause I act like a child doesn't make me one, Charlie. I don't nap. Besides, you're right: we need to go home now: I still have a lot of the world left to see, and I've just figured out which adventure I need to go on next." Charlie watched as he strode across to his Pegasus and leapt onboard, completely oblivious to the pain that he felt not too long ago. Charlie was left sitting there in shock.
There were rare moments in Charlie's career where she had seen that look in Aros' eyes before. Men, women, children - anyone had the possibility to display that flame in their eyes. They tended to be her miracle cases, the ones who nobody thought would get better but they fought and clung onto life with a determination that fell upon them in their moment of need. Some flames went out, their wounds or illnesses too powerful to ever recover from, but it was the same stare that Charlie saw in the people who defied the odds and made a miraculous recovery. Their will to live was inhuman. Aros' determination surpassed all boundaries of sense and reason. He did not hope he would go back to Eastway, he knew he would go back. He had a passion for adventure that would not be stopped by anything that the world could throw at him. Charlie was awestruck and, admittedly, slightly envious.
Charlie was brought out of her reverie by Aros' impatient cry to get moving, and a smile flashed across her features. As she rose to her feet, however, all sounds were drowned out by the flush of blood around her ears; her eyelids fluttered as darkness swam in the corners of her blurred vision and a heavy headache pressed against her temples. She wobbled slightly as the moment passed, and she flicked a furtive glance at Aros, praying that he was too wrapped up in his own dreams of adventure and determination to notice her own weakness. Undoubtedly, Aros was in the worse state, but she could not ignore her own injuries for much longer.
"Fairly certain I'm older than you, kid," she retorted, grinning at him weakly. She wandered over to the Pegasus, forgetting the Peya shrub on the riverbank as she hefted the backpack onto the back of the horse and wiggled up after it. Wordlessly, Charlie leant over and looped the reins around the back again so she had some measure of control over the mount, just in case Aros' vigour subsided and he starts to falter once more. She clung onto the backpack tightly as the Pegasus pounded the rocky terrain, eventually lifting up into the air and above the tree line.
This time, Charlie had to look away from her battered leather backpack to keep an eye on where they were headed. As the unofficial co-pilot of a winged beast, she felt she had some more responsibility than before when she could simply clutch at whatever was the most stable and curse, repeatedly, until those hooves hit solid ground. She was simultaneously amazed and terrified of the sights around her and it did not take long for the woman to start seeing familiar hills and valleys, small huts peppered across the landscape. They were nearing their destination; Charlie was certain she could almost see the flicker of her torch in the darkened crevices or her haggard figure plodding along the perilous mountain passes that made up her usual stomping grounds. From this perspective, she noticed how incredibly small her range of exploration had really been – perhaps this is what inspires Aros to undertake such dangerous expeditions, mused Charlie as, finally, the darkened silhouette of Eastway Bluff shifted into view as a speck on the horizon.
Charlie gave Aros a couple of taps on the arm, partially to make sure he hadn't passed out and partially to get his attention. "We're taking a shortcut!" she yelled over the howling of the wind. "I'll point out my house – you try and land this thing on the road outside, okay? I don't have nearly enough time or patience to deal with nosy stablehands or parade you down the streets like a wounded soldier!" Charlie shifted in her seat, everything ached from riding on horseback for so long and she could feel the dizziness returning. Feebly, she wrapped her fingers around the little glass vial and tentatively uncorked it using her teeth, one arm constantly wrapped around the backpack. She downed the revolting mixture in one go and then stuffed the vial and the cork back into her pocket just as quickly. I'm going to need the energy to focus, she reasoned, and tried desperately to avoid the guilt of using a potion she initially reserved for Aros.
"It's over there!" she hollered, pointing at a small, grey-bricked hut in the middle of what could really be described as a chaotic mixture of suburb and shantytown. Charlie owned one of the larger and more stable buildings, encircled by wooden shacks and crumbling grey houses. It was easy to spot because it was one of the few buildings in the surrounding area which somehow managed to be rather floral. The roof tiles sported large chunks of moss and grasses whilst thorny, auburn bushes brushed against the ivy-covered walls. She even had something close to a garden, a tiny stretch of greenery that overtook the incredibly narrow alleyway behind the house with weeds and herbs and flowers. "Land on the cobbles, not the grass out back – I've only got a front door!" pointed out Charlie as the Pegasus began to dip down and skim across the rooftops. Charlie winced and wanted to shut her eyes for the incredibly narrow landing, but she knew that she may have to steer a little, gently tugging on the reins to help control the beast.
The Pegasus rattled to a stop and immediately grabbed the attention of everyone in the vicinity – most likely everyone in the whole damned town – as Charlie immediately slid off and made a beeline for her front door. She grabbed a hold of the handle and rattled it once or twice. "Motherfu-...!" she hissed, angrily rattling the door a couple more times as flecks of paint fluttered down to the ground from its peeling varnish. Of course she locked her door. Why wouldn't she lock her door? Her impatience made her foolish as she stomped over to an old flowerpot, pulling out an incredibly rusty key from underneath it. That's odd, I knew it was a bit rusty before, but I'm certain it wasn't as bad as this, thought Charlie as she pushed the key into the lock and turned it a couple of times.
The door swung open to reveal something that looked like it came straight out of Dekus Steppe; an old-fashioned fireplace with a massive cast iron cauldron took up the right wall and left a smear of soot on the grey tiled floor. Directly in front of them on the furthest wall was a massive set of shelves full to the brim with potion bottles, medical equipment and withered plants; a battered cupboard sat next to it with a rickety ladder just to reach the upper shelves of this monstrous potion cabinet. Even then, bottles, jars, boxes and teapots were all scattered across any flat surface that was not the floor. The furthest corner was taken up by a single-person bed, very simply made, with a wooden frame and an old mattress. If she wasn't in such a hurry, she might've had a moment to wonder what happened whilst she was gone. All of the surfaces were covered in dust; the lone (and barred) window was so grimy that barely any light filtered through.
Charlie gestured to the bed. "Lie down as carefully as possible," she ordered firmly as she set about lighting two half-melted candles on the mantelpiece to bring in some light. She immediately went back outside again to tie the Pegasus' reins to the front door handle, which swung ajar. "Don't worry about my neighbours...if they've got any sense they won't piss off their doctor," she said, raising her voice pointedly as she directed the final part of her sentence towards the lookers-on in the gloom of the slums. Even though Charlie left regularly, she spent a number of years in her hut, tending to the impoverished and the criminals alike. Her reputation as a werewolf made business incredibly slow but when there was an emergency, she would have been the first port of call. Charlie liked to make sure they didn't forget that whilst she was gone.
She could tell his train of thought was shifting and derailing by the faraway, distracted look in his eye and Charlie prayed it wasn't too late as she rambled on. Her hands started to shake; is this it? Does Aros return to his usual cheery self out of delirium moments before his demise, did she make a mistake in her calculations? Would he ever make it back al-...
Charlie peered at the finger and quirked an eyebrow. The other brow followed shortly after in surprise as she glanced up and into Aros' eyes. "Just 'cause I act like a child doesn't make me one, Charlie. I don't nap. Besides, you're right: we need to go home now: I still have a lot of the world left to see, and I've just figured out which adventure I need to go on next." Charlie watched as he strode across to his Pegasus and leapt onboard, completely oblivious to the pain that he felt not too long ago. Charlie was left sitting there in shock.
There were rare moments in Charlie's career where she had seen that look in Aros' eyes before. Men, women, children - anyone had the possibility to display that flame in their eyes. They tended to be her miracle cases, the ones who nobody thought would get better but they fought and clung onto life with a determination that fell upon them in their moment of need. Some flames went out, their wounds or illnesses too powerful to ever recover from, but it was the same stare that Charlie saw in the people who defied the odds and made a miraculous recovery. Their will to live was inhuman. Aros' determination surpassed all boundaries of sense and reason. He did not hope he would go back to Eastway, he knew he would go back. He had a passion for adventure that would not be stopped by anything that the world could throw at him. Charlie was awestruck and, admittedly, slightly envious.
Charlie was brought out of her reverie by Aros' impatient cry to get moving, and a smile flashed across her features. As she rose to her feet, however, all sounds were drowned out by the flush of blood around her ears; her eyelids fluttered as darkness swam in the corners of her blurred vision and a heavy headache pressed against her temples. She wobbled slightly as the moment passed, and she flicked a furtive glance at Aros, praying that he was too wrapped up in his own dreams of adventure and determination to notice her own weakness. Undoubtedly, Aros was in the worse state, but she could not ignore her own injuries for much longer.
"Fairly certain I'm older than you, kid," she retorted, grinning at him weakly. She wandered over to the Pegasus, forgetting the Peya shrub on the riverbank as she hefted the backpack onto the back of the horse and wiggled up after it. Wordlessly, Charlie leant over and looped the reins around the back again so she had some measure of control over the mount, just in case Aros' vigour subsided and he starts to falter once more. She clung onto the backpack tightly as the Pegasus pounded the rocky terrain, eventually lifting up into the air and above the tree line.
This time, Charlie had to look away from her battered leather backpack to keep an eye on where they were headed. As the unofficial co-pilot of a winged beast, she felt she had some more responsibility than before when she could simply clutch at whatever was the most stable and curse, repeatedly, until those hooves hit solid ground. She was simultaneously amazed and terrified of the sights around her and it did not take long for the woman to start seeing familiar hills and valleys, small huts peppered across the landscape. They were nearing their destination; Charlie was certain she could almost see the flicker of her torch in the darkened crevices or her haggard figure plodding along the perilous mountain passes that made up her usual stomping grounds. From this perspective, she noticed how incredibly small her range of exploration had really been – perhaps this is what inspires Aros to undertake such dangerous expeditions, mused Charlie as, finally, the darkened silhouette of Eastway Bluff shifted into view as a speck on the horizon.
Charlie gave Aros a couple of taps on the arm, partially to make sure he hadn't passed out and partially to get his attention. "We're taking a shortcut!" she yelled over the howling of the wind. "I'll point out my house – you try and land this thing on the road outside, okay? I don't have nearly enough time or patience to deal with nosy stablehands or parade you down the streets like a wounded soldier!" Charlie shifted in her seat, everything ached from riding on horseback for so long and she could feel the dizziness returning. Feebly, she wrapped her fingers around the little glass vial and tentatively uncorked it using her teeth, one arm constantly wrapped around the backpack. She downed the revolting mixture in one go and then stuffed the vial and the cork back into her pocket just as quickly. I'm going to need the energy to focus, she reasoned, and tried desperately to avoid the guilt of using a potion she initially reserved for Aros.
"It's over there!" she hollered, pointing at a small, grey-bricked hut in the middle of what could really be described as a chaotic mixture of suburb and shantytown. Charlie owned one of the larger and more stable buildings, encircled by wooden shacks and crumbling grey houses. It was easy to spot because it was one of the few buildings in the surrounding area which somehow managed to be rather floral. The roof tiles sported large chunks of moss and grasses whilst thorny, auburn bushes brushed against the ivy-covered walls. She even had something close to a garden, a tiny stretch of greenery that overtook the incredibly narrow alleyway behind the house with weeds and herbs and flowers. "Land on the cobbles, not the grass out back – I've only got a front door!" pointed out Charlie as the Pegasus began to dip down and skim across the rooftops. Charlie winced and wanted to shut her eyes for the incredibly narrow landing, but she knew that she may have to steer a little, gently tugging on the reins to help control the beast.
The Pegasus rattled to a stop and immediately grabbed the attention of everyone in the vicinity – most likely everyone in the whole damned town – as Charlie immediately slid off and made a beeline for her front door. She grabbed a hold of the handle and rattled it once or twice. "Motherfu-...!" she hissed, angrily rattling the door a couple more times as flecks of paint fluttered down to the ground from its peeling varnish. Of course she locked her door. Why wouldn't she lock her door? Her impatience made her foolish as she stomped over to an old flowerpot, pulling out an incredibly rusty key from underneath it. That's odd, I knew it was a bit rusty before, but I'm certain it wasn't as bad as this, thought Charlie as she pushed the key into the lock and turned it a couple of times.
The door swung open to reveal something that looked like it came straight out of Dekus Steppe; an old-fashioned fireplace with a massive cast iron cauldron took up the right wall and left a smear of soot on the grey tiled floor. Directly in front of them on the furthest wall was a massive set of shelves full to the brim with potion bottles, medical equipment and withered plants; a battered cupboard sat next to it with a rickety ladder just to reach the upper shelves of this monstrous potion cabinet. Even then, bottles, jars, boxes and teapots were all scattered across any flat surface that was not the floor. The furthest corner was taken up by a single-person bed, very simply made, with a wooden frame and an old mattress. If she wasn't in such a hurry, she might've had a moment to wonder what happened whilst she was gone. All of the surfaces were covered in dust; the lone (and barred) window was so grimy that barely any light filtered through.
Charlie gestured to the bed. "Lie down as carefully as possible," she ordered firmly as she set about lighting two half-melted candles on the mantelpiece to bring in some light. She immediately went back outside again to tie the Pegasus' reins to the front door handle, which swung ajar. "Don't worry about my neighbours...if they've got any sense they won't piss off their doctor," she said, raising her voice pointedly as she directed the final part of her sentence towards the lookers-on in the gloom of the slums. Even though Charlie left regularly, she spent a number of years in her hut, tending to the impoverished and the criminals alike. Her reputation as a werewolf made business incredibly slow but when there was an emergency, she would have been the first port of call. Charlie liked to make sure they didn't forget that whilst she was gone.
